


A Logical Conclusion

by headless_nic



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Fourth Sequel to: The Apple Thief, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 15:20:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17286533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headless_nic/pseuds/headless_nic
Summary: When money gets stolen from the church's offertory box during service, both Sherlock and his uncle set out to find track down the thief.





	A Logical Conclusion

**Author's Note:**

> For Max.

A logical conclusion

“Dear me, it is really hot, is it not?" Sherlock sighed, desperate for a drink of water. But the bottle he and his uncle had taken with them was already empty and they had still a mile to walk till they would reach home.

"Yes, it really is my boy." Aldwin Holmes agreed, wiping his sweaty face with his handkerchief. "And it is only the beginning of summer. Thank goodness it has been raining last night as it has also been incredibly dry these last two weeks, the corn suffers from it, it still looks dry and wilted."

They had gone to the station to drop off Emma who was bound to visit her sister.

"Is there anything we can do about it? Any way to make it rain more frequently?"

"No, not really. You know in some ancient cultures they performed ceremonies to make it rain, dancing around a fire for example. - But I have to admit that I am quite doubtful of the effectiveness of such an action." Aldwin grinned wryly.

Sherlock Holmes laughed, but then fell silent as he began to wonder if it might be worth a try. In some distance Langfield came into view and sighing again the little boy whispered: "I will miss Emma."

"She is only gone for a week, Sherlock. Before you know it, she'll be back. You will see how fast the week will pass. And another three and Mycroft will be back for his summer holidays." Aldwin smiled, though he knew very well what the little rascal was talking that.. He did not particularly like to part with anyone himself, even for a foreseeable time.

"Uncle Aldwin?"

"Hm?"

"Do I really have to go away to school next year? I will miss you all so terribly."

His uncle looked at his little charge affectionately, a sad smile on his young face as he answered: "Yes, Sherlock, it has to be. And you know that. I will miss you, too. Very much so. And I am sure so will Emma."

His heart ached at the thought of little Sherlock Holmes leaving him for months on end. It was already difficult enough to part from his older nephew for most of the year, though Mycroft was seven years older than his brother and soon would be a man. Oh dear, how quickly the years had already passed them by. Sherlock had been three years old when he had taken custody of his brother's orphaned sons. - But Sherlock was still only seven now – so young and innocent. No, it somehow did not sit right to part with him this early. How did parents manage to separate from their children so early on? Now it was Aldwin who sighed. For months he had pushed the thought of Sherlock soon leaving far to the back of his mind and his little nephew's remark had brought it all back to the surface, drowning Aldwin in a flood of sadness. Reaching around the child's narrow shoulders he pulled the boy closer to his side, attempting to explain what he himself did not understand (1).

"Education is very important, my child. It will help you later on in life. One day you will have to find work, earn money – it may not seem important now, but that is how life goes. Someday you will want to have a family, have children of your own and will have outgrown this little village. - And did you not say you wanted to be a detective?"

Sherlock Holmes nodded dreamily.

"Then you need a lot of knowledge, little one."

"Like what for example?" the little rascal enquired eagerly.

"Hm, let me see… - For example how to differentiate between different footprints."

"But I can already do that!" his nephew replied, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, you can see whether it is a woman's shoe or a man's boot and also whether the footprint is rather large or small, you have proven as much, but as with everything, there is so much more to see if one looks just a little bit more closely. See, we are now walking – the road is still slightly muddy and the ground soft, so have a look. How do our footprints look?"

"They are as clear as daylight."

"Exactly, they are very distinguished. - Now run, Sherlock and come back hopping and then let us see if there is any difference in the imprints."

The little imp did as his uncle had bid him and with a red face returned to where his uncle had stopped and waited for him.

"And?" the young man inquired, an eyebrow raised inquisitively.

"Hm, that is curious." his little charge mumbled as he stared down at the imprints he had left. "Where I ran it looks as if I had walked on tiptoe while where I hopped both feet are exactly next to each other and deeper – quite different to when I walk, there they seem to alternate between left and right foot."

"See." Aldwin smiled, patting the boy's head. "And if I pick you up like this, see what happens to my imprints."

He flung his nephew over his shoulder as if he were a sack of potatoes and the boy squealed in surprise and glee. But glancing over his uncle's shoulder he could see that the footprints his uncle now left were considerably deeper than they had been before.

"This is really interesting!" Sherlock cried out. "I never knew."

"That is why you still have to learn so many things, my little imp. And while I can show you a great many things, a good school can do so even better and that is why you will have to go to school."

His head hanging and in deep contemplation, Sherlock walked the rest of the way in silence. His uncle might be right about that, but it did not mean he liked it any better for it.

"Oh, and remember, you will not be alone, you will have a friend." Aldwin reminded him, guessing the little one's thoughts. "Cedric will be there, too." (2)

"It's not the same as being here with you."

"No, perhaps not." his guardian agreed.

The Meadows would feel terribly empty without Sherlock's liveliness and laughter, his tricks and pranks and his unconditional love for his family and friends.

Thus both nephew and uncle had reached their home in a rather peculiar mood and coming home to an empty house was not a cheerful thing, admittedly. But after dinner, as the sun began to set, Aldwin suddenly had an idea.

"What would you say if I showed you how to play the violin?"

"You would do that?"

Aldwin laughed: "I would hardly offer it, if not. I had wanted to do so for a while now, but I have to warn you, it is not as easy as it appears and you will have to practise often."

"Oh, I am not afraid. Please show me."

With his eager expression and the glistening eyes Sherlock Holmes looked as if Christmas had come early, and so Aldwin went up to his room to get the half-sized violin (3) he himself had learned to play on, and the little rascal's first violin lesson took place.

Aldwin was quite impressed by his little charge as the sound the child produced was, for the very first time, melodic enough to promise some success in the future, some ten or so years from now.

"Did I do all right?" Sherlock enquired and beamed when his uncle nodded, trying to keep a straight face. Oh, these wonderful first lessons when the violin sounded like a mix of an old creaking door and a strangled cat – he had almost forgotten about it. Almost.

"Do you think I will be able to play a song for Emma when she returns?"

Now Aldwin was close to cracking up, chuckling: "Well, let us say there is some hope for it till Mycroft returns. Remember, Emma is just gone for a week. You have to be a little more patient."

xxx

The next day was a Sunday and Sherlock and his uncle were on their way to church when they ran into Jack Tull(4), the former farmhand of Kerkhill Farm and now husband of their former maid. The tall, broad-shouldered man glared at them before entering the church where he sat down in one of the labourers' benches to the back of the building.

"I wonder why he has returned," Sherlock mumbled.

"Practical reasons I would assume." Aldwin smiled at him, though a light frown playing on his features.

Since the incident with the apples, almost a year ago his opinion of Jack had altered considerably as well. Where before he on occasion would engage the man to give him a hand Aldwin now either did the work himself or hired another boy, even though Tull had asked him if he could do any work for them.

"I cannot trust a man who has betrayed us so in the past." he had said to Emma when she had asked why he would not make use of the man's help, as the windows, doors and woodwork of their cottage had needed painting and another pair of hands would not have gone amiss. Instead, he and Sherlock had done the work all by themselves – after school. It had been fun though and the house looked as nice and neat again as it possibly could.

Service began and the little rascal's mind began to wander, paying little attention to what was being said, but the more to what happened around him. There were always a few people who were late and some of the servants sneaked out early so that there was always something to see and observe. To the boy's surprise Martin Riley was amongst those being late and with a breathless expression, he sneaked into the pew beside his parents. Then the littlest Brown became fretful and Mrs Brown left the church with an embarrassed and at the same time exasperated expression.

"He is getting teeth," Aldwin whispered when his nephew had tucked questioningly at his sleeve, demanding to know what was the matter.

Kitty Tull was last to appear only moments before service ended. There was little doubt that she felt ill as she was excessively pale and despite her condition looked haggard. Their former maid had barely sat down when Sarah Lynne got up from her seat to get back to the inn. She was maid there and responsible for the cooking and thus often slipped out early.

"Have you seen Peter?" the little busybody enquired as soon as the last Amen had been spoken.

"No, I have not." was Aldwin Holmes' amused reply.

He knew quite well how difficult it was for his nephew to sit still. When the boy was smaller he had had a tendency to simply pipe up at the most inconvenient of times, at least now he kept his mouth shut and only watched the people around him, or pondered on something, which usually led to a lot of questions later on at home.

Habitually the whole congregation lingered, clustered together in small groups chatting merrily when suddenly and with a face white with shock, Mr Brown came storming out of the church.

"The money from the offertory box (5) has been stolen!" he cried out at which each and every head turned in his direction.

"What?!" Reverend Whitwater gasped, looking incredulous.

"Scandalous!" was Mrs Nichols' remark as she frowned at the people around her, looking as if she distrusted each and every one of them.

"Now, now, perhaps there is a simple enough solution to it." was Aldwin's soothing reply.

"Solution?" their landlady and school's patroness screeched, her walking stick descending on the grey cobblestones in front of the church. "Someone has stolen church money!"

Rolling his eyes the Aldwin was the only one who had the sense of walking over to the devastated Mr Brown and ask him what exactly had happened.

"I am not so sure myself," the crestfallen man replied, wiping his face with his handkerchief. "When I just now wanted to take the money out, as I do every Sunday the offertory box stood already open, the lock pried, and there was no money inside nor anywhere around – and I have been the only one in the tower all day. At least as far as I know."

"What has it to do with the tower?" a little voice enquired curiously.

The little chap staring up at him had always wanted to go up there and have a look around, wondering how far he might be able to see.

"Well, one cannot open the offertory box from the front but has to get through the door that leads up the stairs to the tower." was the sexton's reply. "I always empty it on a Sunday after service and put it together with the money from the collection box (6) to be delivered to Mrs Nichols so she can pass it on to the needy."

"And you are certain that when you rang the bell the box was still closed?" the young schoolteacher dug deeper.

"Yes. Absolutely."

Sherlock Holmes was just about to ask if not the Reverend could have taken out the money already when he realised that if that had been the case he would have already said so. - And he certainly would not have pried open the lock but used a key. No, there he stood and desperately tried to appease their patroness, but with little success.

As the poor parson was too occupied it was Aldwin who led the children to their small school for their Sunday School lessons, though admittedly today those turned out to be rather short as the young man was eager to get home lest their food would burn in the oven, with Emma being away.

For the rest of the day both nephew's and uncle's mind were occupied with the incident earlier in the day, but it was only when Aldwin brought Sherlock to bed that they spoke about it.

"Uncle Aldwin, I have been thinking." Sherlock began.

Aldwin raised his eyebrows, smiling, while he tucked his little imp into his bed.

"And?"

"It can only be one of the people who were late or left early."

At that, the young man looked puzzled.

"Why?"

"Because if someone else would have gotten up someone would have noticed."

"Meaning you?"

Sherlock nodded: "And not just me. No one sat alone in a pew, there were at least four people in any of them. If someone would have gone for even a moment, one of the people sitting next to them would have noticed. It's not as if the sermon was all that interesting."

Chuckling his guardian had to admit that that sounded indeed logical.

"There is another possibility though." Aldwin mused. "It was not a local person."

"Hm, that, of course, is a possibility. But there are no peddlers(7) around on a Sunday and I haven't seen any gipsies(8) in a long time either."

"No, me neither."

xxx

Monday came and with it a flood of gossip (9). The stolen church money was on everybody's mind and it took the young teacher some time to restore silence to his classroom.

"Well, it is pretty obvious who has done it, is it not?" George Dean sneered.

"And who would be this obvious thief?" he was sternly asked by his exasperated schoolmaster.

"Well, the only person who has stolen something before. We only have one thief living in our village and that is -"

"Jack Tull." his sentence was finished by Matthew Rodgers, the blacksmith's son.

As Mr Holmes thought it necessary to set a few things to right he postponed the planned English lesson, sat down at his shabby desk and with a frown began explaining that as long as they could neither prove or disprove the deed, Jack should be considered as innocent as the rest of them. What he did not say was, that his own thoughts had run along the same line. After all, the man and his young wife were in dire straits and their baby would be born soon, adding to the already considerable burden. - And he had stolen before. But his nephew had been quite certain that the man had never left his seat during service and he could hardly have summoned the money into his pocket by magic. No, for the time being, it would not do to spread such rumours, no matter what he personally thought about the man.

After Aldwin's appeal the lessons went on as usual and when lunchtime came and the children piled out of the small schoolroom his nephew appeared by his side.

"Uncle Aldwin," he said, gnawing his bottom lip, "I have been thinking."

At that, his uncle laughed: "Yes, I noticed. I would have preferred for you to pay attention to your lessons, however."

Blushing slightly at having been caught Sherlock carried on: "I have told you already, that Jack cannot be the thief and neither can one of the other people who were in the church the whole time, so it can only be one of those people who came later or left early – excepting the ones who were only a minute or so late as there were still a few who came at the last moment, so they would have been spotted slipping through that door. So based on that I have been thinking about who would have had the opportunity."

"And?" Aldwin Holmes asked startled.

"Well, Peter was not there at all. He theoretically could have come and taken then money without anybody seeing him, but I don't think it was him. He would never do such a thing."

Aldwin had not even realised the young Master Summers had been absent. Anyhow, he agreed with his nephew there, but reminded him, that hey would still have to prove his innocence.

"And who are the others?"

"Marty, Kitty, Mrs Brown and Sarah Lynne."

"I think you can safely rule out Mrs Brown, my little detective. She had a crying baby in her arms, had she lingered, we would have heard." his uncle remarked.

"Hm, I had not considered that." his charge admitted, looking slightly crestfallen for not having noticed this himself.

Ruffling his nephew's hair Aldwin sat down at the kitchen table and lit his pipe, while the child bit into a slice of pork pie Emma had made for them before she had left. It was delicious.

Moments later there was a timid knock on the door and when Aldwin went to answer it, he was greeted with none other than Jack Tull.

"I am most sorry to disturb you, Mr Holmes." he almost whispered, his head bend and his hands playing with his cap. "But I don't know where else to go. And you are a clever man."

Frowning Aldwin let him enter, his eyes never leaving the labourer.

"What is it you want from me? I have no work at the moment."

"It is not work I want – well, I would, but that is not what I have come here for. Mrs Nichols is threatening to evict us because she believes I have stolen the money from the offertory box. But I swear, I have not taken it!"

Aldwin thought about what he had said to his pupils earlier that day and also what Sherlock had summed up pretty well, and offering Jack Tull a seat and a cup of tea, listened to the young and burly man's plight. And what that plight was, was put into one sentence easily enough – he had not taken the money but could not prove it and needed help to do so.

With a sigh, Aldwin Holmes glanced at him, before with a curt nod he reached out his hand and offered it to the desperate man.

"I'll see what I can do. But I cannot make any promises, after all, I am not a detective." at the last word he grinned mischievously at the curious little boy who had all but forgotten his slice of pie.

"So, do you think we can solve this mystery, Sherlock?"

Eagerly his nephew nodded.

"Then I suggest you eat up and we have a look around as soon as school is finished for the day."

xxx

Their first stop consequentially was at Reverend Whitwater's, so they could have a proper look around and as they did so, one thing became clear – the only time the door to the tower was unlocked and the staircase and the flap of the offertory box were accessible was during service.

"But how does this help us? It could be any number of people – not that I think any of my sheep a thief, Holmes." the Reverend was clearly shaken.

"Sherlock here has a theory. I normally would prefer if he would pay a bit more attention to the sermon, but I think in this instance it might come in handy that his mind is usually occupied by something else. In this instance watching the people around him." Aldwin grinned wryly at his nephew.

"You saw something, my boy?"

"Well, no." Sherlock answered, and at the sight of the elderly man's darkened expression hastily added: "I did not see who did it, but I saw who left or came late and as no-one else left their seats, it can only be either of these people, though we, that is Uncle Aldwin and me, ruled out Mrs Brown already."

"Which leaves a total of four possible suspects," Aldwin explained. "Martin Riley, Sarah Lynne, Peter Summers and his sister, Mrs Tull."

"I cannot see any of them commit such a heinous crime. After all, it is a crime against God." the saddened parson replied, but had to admit that it did sound logical.

"And what are we going to now?" Sherlock Holmes enquired eagerly as soon as they had stepped back outside and into the bright summer sun. The parsonage was always a bit oppressive with its dark panelling and the thick curtains which left in only little light.

"We talk to our suspects, I would say. There is little else we can do."

It was lucky, that they met both Peter and Marty at the small post office where they had stopped to buy some more tobacco for Aldwin and a small bag of fudge for Sherlock.

"Peter, we missed you yesterday at church." Aldwin greeted their neighbour's son.

"Ah well, one of our cows had her calf and she started to have it just as we were about to leave for church, so I stayed behind. And good it was, as the little one caused its mother quite some trouble. Got stuck on the way out and we had to use a lever in the end. Well, at least we now know the bull's too big for that cow. Got to take another one next time around." (10)

If he had heard the rumours about his brother in law, he did not say it, neither did he partake in the gossip that was still spreading like wildfire. This, however, was not unusual. Peter hardly ever spoke more than was necessary and if, never meanly of others.

Marty, on the other hand, was a much different matter. He grinned defiantly at his teacher before tucking the bag of oranges underneath his arm. He little liked his teacher or the man's nephews as he blamed them for his own shortcomings, constantly being compared to them by his own father.

"What, are you an investigator now, Mr Holmes?" he thus asked with little respect.

"So to say. After all, it will not do to blame an innocent man."

"Tull is a thief!"

"He has stolen my apples last year, that much is true, but that does not mean he has taken the money."

"Hm." Marty huffed, glaring at Sherlock. "And what are you looking at?"

"You, obviously." was the smaller boy's matter of fact answer.

"And why?"

"Because I can. So, why were you late for church yesterday?"

Martin Riley stared at the smaller boy before him with an incredulous expression on his face.

"What business of yours is that then?"

"I thought I had explained the matter already, Marty. We were asked to find the thief, so he can be dealt with." Aldwin stepped in.

"What's the police for?"

"Apparently Mrs Nichols does not want for this to become a matter of public interest and I have to say I agree with her. It would be better to bring the culprit before a magistrate and not a criminal court. The crime is a despicable one and yet nothing but a mere trifle." (11)

The youth just huffed and shrugging his shoulders said: "Well, if you don't believe me, just ask my parents, but I have done nothing but sew on one of my buttons which had become loose."

With that he turned around and left the little shop, carefully cradling his parcel.

"I don't like him!" Sherlock exclaimed, remembering all the times the boy had caused trouble. If there was a troublemaker in the village it certainly was Martin Riley and his gang of like-minded ruffians, mainly older boys.

To this, his uncle did not reply, though his expression clearly told his nephew that he agreed with him.

Next, they spoke to Kitty, whom they found lying in the narrow bed in the tiny single room she now shared with her husband, all but abandoned by her family. - Still, she did not look well and seemed in pain and both Holmes' believed her when she told them that she had not been off on Sunday either and thus had been late.

"I have been in pain since Saturday night, but is coming and going, almost like clockwork - so I am not quite sure what to do." their former maid gasped as a new wave of pain came over her.

"Like clockwork?" the young man questioned in alarm.

"Yes, but the cramps are getting more painful and are coming closer and closer together."

At hearing that, the concerned schoolmaster quickly sent his nephew to fetch Mrs Harper.

"Why not Mr Riley?"

"Stop asking, Sherlock, just go. And hurry!" the man's voice sounded almost frantic, his face had turned white and cold sweat had appeared on his forehead.

When Sherlock arrived back with the midwife little more than half an hour later as she had not been at home, it was too late. There his uncle stood, his face a mask of complete shock as he carefully cradled the whimpering child he held in his arms, while Kitty still seemed in pain. Helplessly Aldwin looked from one to the other and at last down, at the tiny baby, he had wrapped in a blood-stained towel (12).

"Is it not supposed to stop after the baby is born?" he wondered, the panic in his voice unmistakable.

"Ah well, it seems you have done my job already." the old woman remarked dryly, glancing at the confused young man with a smile before stepping over to the woman. "Or rather half of it. Why girl, have you not called me earlier?"

"It has been coming and going, how was I supposed to know I was to call you? It is not as if we have the money to call you for nothing." Kitty replied testily, then dried out in pain again, and before Sherlock knew what was going on, his uncle had steered him out of the sticky room and closed the door in his face.

xxx

Aldwin barely drank anything stronger than his tea – which admittedly was very strong, but as they, at last, made their way to the George and Dragon he was truly looking forward to a pint of strong beer and something to eat. It had gotten quite late and his nephew's stomach rumbled persistently all the way hither. It was just as well they had their dinner there then.

Outside the public-house, Jack was shovelling dung onto a cart, despite the late hour but stopped when he saw them approach.

" Have you found out who has done it?" he asked quickly, wiping his dirty hands on the front of his shirt.

"Kitty had her babies," Sherlock announced, ignoring the man's desperate question.

"What?!"

"Yes, you heard right, Jack." Aldwin smiled, though it was quite apparent that he did not envy the man in the slightest. At least not in his current situation.

"Babies? As in more than one?"

"Yes, two. Two little girls."

Stumbling backwards Jack Tull sat down on the half-full wheelbarrow and burrowed his face in his hands. Whether this was a sign of great happiness or despair Sherlock could not tell, but he presumed it was the latter, as his uncle stepped forward and patted the man's back encouragingly.

"It'll work out well, Jack. All will work out well in the end."

xxx

When Sherlock lay in bed that night he thought about all that had happened, Kitty and her babies, Peter, Marty and Sarah, who claimed she had gone straight to the pub to finish her work in the kitchen there. So who could be the thief? Nothing that had been said had been conclusive the little detective thought to himself, chagrined that the solution would not come as easily as he had hoped. While he knew that a calf had been born on Kerkhill Farm on Sunday, he did not know when exactly. Then again, he could not believe it of Peter to have stolen anything. After all the young man was one of the most reliable people he knew, safe for his uncle, Mycroft and Emma. So no, it certainly was not Peter. And his uncle believed it was not his sister either. So that only left the maid and Marty. He was so wound up, that sleep would just not come and slipping out of bed he knocked on his uncle's door.

Aldwin Holmes had not been asleep, but reading, sitting in his armchair in front of the empty fireplace. When his nephew entered he looked up from his book and stood.

"What is it, my boy?"

"I can't sleep." the little boy answered, yawning widely.

Smiling his uncle picked him up and sat back down, pulling the child onto his lap.

"You are thinking too much, Sherlock. One always has to know when it is not worth pursuing a matter and step back from it instead."

"You don't want to find out any more who has taken the money?"

"Of course I do. But tonight we will not find out anything that could possibly help us. So lean back, rest your head on my shoulder and try and sleep, my dear, and tomorrow we see what else we can find out."

With that the young uncle pulled the child closer, gently caressing his hair as he felt his nephew's breath become more even and his eyes droop at last, till not five minutes later he was fast asleep in his guardian's arms.

"Why do you have to grow up so fast, my boy?" Aldwin whispered, unwilling to let go just yet and instead savouring the moment. Sometimes it seemed like yesterday that he had held the little bundle that was his nephew for the very first time, just like he had held Kitty's little baby girl today. So many things had happened since then – good and bad.

xxx

The next morning it was drizzling while at the same time the sun shone through the blanket of dark clouds obscuring the sky.

"Look over there, Sherlock!" Janet Brickley cried out. Both had just arrived at the school's door and upon turning around the boy saw the most magnificent rainbow he had ever seen.

"Is it not beautiful?"

"It is." the deep voice of their teacher sounded from behind them. "Do you want to know how there can be such a wondrous thing as a rainbow?"

"Magic?" Alfie piped up.

"No, its made by God." Janet reprimanded him. "It's a sign."

"That it certainly is, Janet." Aldwin agreed. "But, there is a physical explanation to it and I think it might make for an interesting lesson.

Pulling out his magnifying glass from his desk he began to explain about light and how it can be broken into different colours with the aid of shaped glass(13).

"A prism(14) would be better, but this also does the trick," he said as he stood up and walked over to the window, the sun shining brightly through it through the rain. "Come, gather round and I will show you."

He placed a piece of paper onto the bright spot on Ian's desk and held up the glass, and indeed, as he tilted it slightly the colours of a rainbow appeared on the smooth white surface.

"It is the same with a rainbow. The raindrops break the light into all their spectral colours the and that is what we see."

"I liked magic better." Alfie sighed, at which the class laughed and his teacher chuckled.

"Well Alfred, it is not any less magical just because we have a rational explanation for it. If anything it makes it even more fascinating. But as you insist on magic, how about all of you write me a small story about how they think a rainbow comes to pass or should come to pass? And in the meantime, Ian, we are going to practise your reading."

Ian was the youngest of the children, not yet able to write properly or read very well.

xxx

When school was out, Sherlock took his uncle's magnifying glass with him, just in case. After all one could see so much more with a magnifying glass than with only one's eyes. And so he marched over to the rectory and knocked on the door.

With a smile the Reverend allowed him to have another look at the pried lock, and Sherlock was quite surprised to see how much different the enlarged scratches appeared. Not that it really told him anything. But at least he was now certain, that. No, this must have been a sharp instrument, somewhat pointy on the end for it to fit into the keyhole. A penknife perhaps. Well, he did not know about Sarah, but he knew that both Peter and Marty had a penknife that they carried with them wherever they went.

Stepping into Mr Riley's small pharmacy he came straight to the point and asked the bewildered and slightly amused father of Martin if his story panned out.

"Yes, it is true. When dressing one of his trouser buttons fell off and we told him to fix it and come after us."

It was odd in itself that Mrs Riley had not mended her son's trousers but then again, Sherlock was made to sew on his own buttons as well.

"Only one button?" Sherlock suddenly asked as he remembered that when he and his uncle had arrived at church ten minutes before service, they had already been there.

"Of course only one button, boy. What is all this about anyway?" Mr Riley wondered, getting slightly irritated.

"Oh, nothing. I just wanted to know."

Deep in thought, Sherlock Holmes left the shop and walked back home. There now was something he needed to think over and he did so by rounding the house, climbing up one of the apple trees and leaning against the tree trunk he dangled his feet in silent contemplation. Eventually, he was sure to have found the thief. Not even he needed more than five minutes to sew on a button, and not only had Martin come after his parents, no he had only turned up after service had begun. Considering they only lived across the road there was no other explanation than him having sneaked into church, slipping through the door and stealing the money.

But unfortunately, his uncle was not there when he entered the house to tell him of his conclusions (15). He had said he wanted to visit Mr Summers, so presumably, when his nephew had been out of the house himself, he too had gone.

Bored the little rascal looked around for something to occupy him, the crate with the tinder was still almost full, so no need to chop up any more wood. Walking over to the washing line he saw his uncle's shirt hanging there, dry now and gently moving in the breeze, the stains Aldwin had tried to wash out still clearly visible. Wondering why there had been so much blood anyway, Sherlock examined the shirt carefully before taking out the magnifying glass again. Though it did not answer his questions the otherwise brilliantly white fabric had the same effect than the sheet of paper had this morning when his uncle had shown them how a rainbow worked and curiously the boy tilted the magnifying glass, till the spot of light turned a brilliant white and before he knew it the shirt began smoking as if on fire. Expectantly as to what would happen next, Sherlock Holmes kept the glass very still, only to leap back a moment later as a dark stain appeared and tiny flames erupted from the spot the light had hit (16).

"Oh-oh!"

Wide-eyed the unlucky little fellow stared at the burning shirt, uncertain what to do. By the time he realised that extinguishing the fire as quickly as possible would have been the obvious step to take, the flames had spread to the washing line itself.

"Shoot!" Sherlock cried out and quickly dropping the glass he hastened to get the garden shears that were kept in their shed, to sever the line from the trees holding it, lest the fire would spread to them likewise. Upon returning he found his bewildered uncle, the remnants of the washing line and his shirt at his feet, his penknife in his hands.

"However did that happen?" he asked, not quite daring to look at his contrite nephew.

"I just wanted to see the rainbow again, and then, when I tilted the glass there was a really bright spot on the shirt and suddenly it was smoking and then there was fire. I really don't know what has happened. I swear it was not on purpose."

At last Aldwin Holmes looked at the little culprit, a wry grin on his face: "Well, I have to say you have saved my shirt."

"But…?"

"Look, all the stains are gone now."

Glancing up Sherlock caught his guardian's eye and both started laughing.

xxx

"What I am really curious about is, what you needed the money for, Martin," Aldwin said to the stubborn looking boy in front of him as the next day he confronted him with their conclusions – conclusions he had found to be surprisingly accurate as his nephew had explained the matter to him.

At last, faced with the evidence, Martin Riley had confessed and the whole classroom had fallen silent with indignant shock.

"What's it to you?" Marty replied, lips pressed together into a thin line.

"Nothing. I would just like to understand your actions better – or rather at all. This money is for people who are not so fortunate as you or me, people who can barely afford the roof over their heads or fill their stomachs. You took that money away from them and I would at least like an explanation for it."

"I have none." young Riley whispered, his defiance waning.

It was shortly after their lessons that there was a timid knock on the door and to both Sherlock's and Aldwin's surprise Martin Riley stood on their doorstep.

"Have you spoken to my father yet?" he inquired quietly, his eyes cast down.

"No, I was just about to do that. But, Marty, I would still like an explanation. You might be a bit rough around the edges sometimes, but come now, you are not a criminal. What happened?"

"I have debts, Mr Holmes. Debts of honour."

"Debts? You are barely twelve."

"Yes. I made a wager against George and I was so sure I would win it, that I did not care that I had not had the money to pay up in case I didn't. But it was George who won and now I have to pay. And father always says one has to pay one's dues – especially debts of honour. Where was I to get the money from? My father would not like me betting and losing money."

Aldwin Holmes knew quite well why that was. The boy's father himself had had a knack for playing cards when he had been younger and had at one point accumulated a lot of debts. Consequentially he had moved to Langfield, where the temptation would be but slight and since then he had become a most zealous opponent to any kind of gambling.

"What was the wager about?" the young teacher, at last, asked as he looked at the defiant and yet contrite looking boy. Stealing was one thing, but he had the feeling there was something more to it.

"George said that he could make an egg stand upright and I told him it was impossible."

"Let me guess, he used a boiled one and slammed it down on the table so the bottom cracked and was flat?" (17)

"Exactly. How?"

"All right. Never mind. Now, I think you will have to own to what you have done. The whole class knows, so it is only a matter of time your father, Reverend Whitwater and Mrs Nichols will hear about it, too. The sooner you confess and repent, the sooner you will be forgiven. - But Martin, you will pay back the money."

"But how can I, I haven't got anything and I doubt father would give me any."

"No, and very good that is, as it is you who should pay for it, not your father. But I think you might find a job somewhere, possibly even your father's pharmacy, and with what you earn you can pay off what you have taken – and perhaps a bit on top. And I will speak to George and have a word with him about tricking younger children out of their money."

xxx

When Sherlock Holmes woke up on the following Saturday it was still very early. But Emma would come back today and he was so giddy that he could not stay in bed a moment longer. Climbing out of bed and tiptoeing downstairs he began to light the fire in the stove and began to prepare breakfast. It was a bit tricky as he had never done so before, but he really wanted to surprise his uncle.

And surprised his uncle was as he sat down at the neatly laid out table.

"You have outdone yourself, little one." he complimented his nephew's work as he watched the boy busying himself with boiling two eggs and roasting two slices of bread on the hot surface of the stove.

Only when Aldwin poured himself a cup of tea, adding a spoon full of sugar and taking his first sip did he realise that once more the little fellow had managed to botch things up, yet he had not the heart to tell him that he had put salt instead of sugar into the sugar bowl. But seriously, he would not have it any other way. 

 

A.N.:

(1) Those who also follow ‘the adventures of Mr and Mrs Holmes' will, of course, know Aldwin's secret and why with Sherlock especially, he loathes to part. Not that he is faring much better with Mycroft, but the boy is much older and with only him gone there is at least still one of them left at home. Not so with the younger of the brothers.

(2) See ‘two knights to the rescue'. There Aldwin introduces Sherlock to Cedric Stephrey exactly because of that reason, so that his nephew would not start school without a friend by his side.

(3) For children, there are smaller versions of the instrument so they don't have trouble playing the notes. Many children start a lot earlier than Sherlock does and thus there are ¼, ½, ¾ and obviously full-sized instruments. In this case, it is a ½ sized violin he starts with, which for a child his age is actually a good size.

(4) Remember, he is the apple thief in Sherlock's very first adventure? He has also eloped with Kitty, the Holmes' maid before Emma.

(5) The offertory box is usually located next to the church doors, so you can put in something as you step out. This money can be either for maintaining the church building or, like in this case, for charity.

(6) The collection box, on the other hand, is normally handed around sometime during service to collect money for charity. Needless to say that it usually brings in a higher sum than the offertory box, alone for the reason that there are so many people present watching what is put into it.

(7) A peddler is basically a travelling salesman offering his goods to the people knocking on their doors. While there were peddlars in cities as well, they are mainly associated with the countryside. Back in the days very often people would get little chance of going into town as it was costly and took time, they often did not have. With peddlers coming around people still had a chance of getting rarer goods than the local shop offered – toys for example or pots, pans, scissors etc.

(8) Politically correct: the Romani People, are a traditionally nomadic group of people living throughout Europe, as well as Northern India – and nowadays in America as well. Today it is thought that they originate from India and spread from there. Many Romani live in Hungary, Romania and Bulgaria, either in the traditional style (nomadic) or settled down (often in very poor circumstances with low hygienic standards and little to no medical care).  
With using the term gipsy I intended no insult but merely used the word as one appropriate for the time the story is set in, as back then, apart from themselves, no-one would have referred to the Romani as such.

(9) If you have ever lived in a small village, you will know what I am talking about… - People usually know of your marriage, divorce etc. long before you know it yourself. But on the up-side, as long as they talk about you, you know you are still an interesting person.

(10) Oh, the joys of breeding life stock! As in this case, the calf can be too big for its mother if the bull had been on the larger side (compared to other bulls of course, as they are generally in the habit of being chunky animals…). In this instance Peter has to pull out the too large calf with a lever (admittedly I don't know if there is a technical term for it in English…), meaning he is attaching a rope to the calf's forelegs, ties it around a piece of wood (the lever, obviously) and so pulls it out. Simple physics, really. Nowadays there are special contraptions for this, but I have found nothing that indicated they existed back then.

(11) Very often the local gentry would have the right to speak right over petty offences. Mrs Nichols is not a magistrate, only a meddlesome older woman, but it can be doubted that anybody would have taken offence in her judgement in this instance.

(12) Oh well, how could Kitty not have known? She presumably did, but as she says herself was timid to call the midwife too early, as she would have to pay her and she and Jack are currently barely scraping by. Also, as she has run away, she has not had her ‘wedding night talk' from her mother and now has to deal with it herself. One is allowed to wonder why her parents are so unforgiving towards her, but let's say it that way, it is not because of what she has done, but due to how she behaves. With the babies being born now, however, they will eventually be reconciled. It's basically a matter of: You have made your bed, now sleep in it. Also, I am aware that the time she spends in labour seems incredibly long, but first time around it can take a while. (I know what I am talking about since this was exactly the time it took for my son to at last make an appearance in this world. So, a big shout-out to all mothers out there!) Also, they never come out clean...

(13) Here Aldwin is clearly teaching his pupils about optics – a form of physics which deals with the properties and behaviour of light. Nothing, in short, that would normally be taught at a village school. But it actually is really interesting.

(14) An optical prism is generally a triangular shaped piece of glass or another clear material such as plastic, which is used to refract light, meaning to separate white light into its spectral colours.

(15) It was quite common for people to leave the doors unlocked back then.

(16) The curved lens of a magnifying glass bundles the sun's rays and intensifies them in such a way that they can start a fire. Actually the same applies to mirrors, which is why they sometimes come with a warning that you should not hang them in a place where the sun hits them directly.

(17) Ah well, the old trick Columbus is said to have used… Of course, Aldwin would know about that one.


End file.
